


No More

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And it's long past time someone dealt with it, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, the kids are not alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: “Counselor,” Olivia called, and Barba looked over at her, startled. “Join me, would you?”Barba followed her into an interrogation room, his expression carefully neutral. “I suppose I probably don’t need to ask why I’m in here,” he said, though he still gave Olivia a look when she gestured for him to take a seat.“Well, when one of my detectives walks into work with a black eye, we tend to take that pretty seriously,” Olivia said, struggling to keep her voice light.





	No More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AHumanFemale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHumanFemale/gifts).



> This is an idea I've been toying with for awhile now. This doesn't fully get into the idea as deeply or as thoroughly as I would've liked, but it's a start ~~and it's still more than we'll get from the SVU writer's room #tea~~.
> 
> For AHF, who, despite claiming she has no memory of it, encouraged this.
> 
> Usual disclaimer, with added mental health caveat: anything I say or imply about PTSD or any other mental illness is based solely on my own experiences and should not be taken as representative of anything whatsoever. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos.

Amanda glanced up as Carisi made his way into the precinct. He was lacking his usual bouyant step and hadn’t even bothered to take his sunglasses off. “Going for the Top Gun look, Maverick?” Amanda asked with a smirk, sitting back in her chair. “Don’t think I don’t realize that those are Barba’s. You’ve never once in your life been cool enough to own Aviators.”

Carisi just grunted in response as he plopped down in his chair, and Amanda’s smirk faded. “No witty comeback?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “What are you, hungover?”

Though Carisi did manage a laugh, it was dry and humorless. “Something like that,” he muttered. “I, uh, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Barba keep you up all night?” Amanda asked with a snigger.

Even though he was still wearing the sunglasses, Amanda could tell that Carisi rolled his eyes. “Something like that,” he repeated. “And will my relationship with Rafael ever stop being a source of amusement to you?”

“No,” Amanda said easily. “Especially not when you call him ‘Rafael’ in that lovesick tone. So what did you two lovebirds—”

“Carisi, take the sunglasses off, this isn’t a fraternity house,” Olivia interrupted as she walked past, flipping through a case file.

Carisi froze.

Olivia paused and glanced up at him. “Did you hear me, Detective?” she asked mildly.

After a moment, Carisi nodded, jerkily, and slowly reached up to take his shades off, wincing as he did and conspicuously avoiding looking at either Amanda or Olivia.

And for good reason.

Amanda sucked in a breath at the shiner ringing Carisi’s left eye, which was so swollen she doubted he could see out of it. “Jesus Christ,” she breathed, halfway out of her seat before she even realized it.

“What happened?” Olivia asked sharply.

Carisi let out a nervous chuckle, still not looking at either of them. “It’s nothing,” he told them dismissively. “I, uh, I tripped. And fell. I mean, you know how I am. Clumsy like a baby giraffe, you know?”

“You fell,” Olivia repeated, and Amanda glanced at her, the two women sharing a look. Neither of them believed that for a second. “And you managed to hit your eye on the way down?”

“Uh, yeah,” Carisi muttered, the back of his neck burning red. “Like I said, clumsy.”

Amanda stood. “Liv, can I have a word?” she asked, her voice tight, and Olivia tore her gaze away from Carisi to frown at Amanda, even though she nodded and followed her into her office. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Amanda burst, “I know he’s your friend, Liv, but I swear to God, I will arrest Barba right this instant—”

“Hang on,” Olivia said firmly, holding her hands up placatingly. “We don’t know the full story. Carisi said—”

“Carisi just gave the classic excuse that every domestic violence victim has given!” Amanda said hotly. “And don’t even pretend like you didn’t realize as soon as you saw it that the bruise he’s sporting is the exact size of Barba’s fist.”

Olivia’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she said quietly. “Just like I would never try to tell you that Barba would never do that. Because we both know better than to say that about anyone, no matter how well we think we know them. That being said—”

“Liv, c’mon—” Amanda tried to interrupt, but Olivia spoke over her.

“That being said, we _don’t_ know the whole story. And there are a million other ways Carisi could’ve gotten a black eye. He could’ve been mugged, or been in a bar fight, or, yes, he _could_ have fallen. So until we know the whole story—”

Amanda’s eyes flashed. “Fine. Then let’s go ask for the whole story. Let’s go see how quickly his excuse falls apart when we press. Let’s—”

Olivia caught her arm before she could yank the door open. “Amanda,” she sighed, before breaking off, both of them catching sight at the same moment of Barba striding into the precinct.

Like Carisi, he seemed more tired than usual, and lacking his typical swagger.

Unlike Carisi, his face looked fine.

Barba made a beeline for Carisi, who looked up when he approached, only to look away just as quickly. Barba paused a foot away from him, his voice too low to carry to where Amanda and Olivia were watching, but his urgency was evident in every line of his body, even if his hand was gentle when he reached out for Carisi.

Who flinched away from his touch.

Barba’s hand fell back to his side and Amanda whirled around to glare at Olivia. “Do you need to see more, or are you done?’ she asked icily.

“Let me talk to him,” Olivia said quietly.

“Olivia, Barba may be your friend, but Carisi is mine, and I won’t—”

Olivia shook her head. “Let me talk to him,” she repeated. “And if he did this, I swear to you, Amanda, I will arrest him myself.”

For a moment, it looked like Amanda might argue, but then she nodded and let Olivia leave first. “Counselor,” Olivia called, and Barba looked over at her, startled. “Join me, would you?”

Barba followed her into an interrogation room, his expression carefully neutral. “I suppose I probably don’t need to ask why I’m in here,” he said, though he still gave Olivia a look when she gestured for him to take a seat.

“Well, when one of my detectives walks into work with a black eye, we tend to take that pretty seriously,” Olivia said, struggling to keep her voice light.

Barba met her gaze evenly. “What did Sonny tell you when you asked him about it?”

“That he fell.”

“And?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “And I don’t think either you or I believe him.”

Something tightened in Barba’s expression. “Well, regardless of if you believe him, under New York State law, absent another witness, if he doesn’t wish to press charges, that’s the end of the matter.”

“We’re talking about assault charges here, Counselor,” Olivia said sharply. “I think you and I both know this is nowhere near the end of the matter.”

“Do I need my lawyer?” Barba asked, clearly aiming for a joke, though it fell flat.

“That depends,” Olivia said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Did you hit my detective?”

Barba’s eyes flashed to hers and away again. “Yes,” he said softly.

Olivia stood. “Then call your lawyer.”

“Liv—” Olivia glared at him, and Barba quickly amended, “Lieutenant. It’s not what you think.”

“You hit your partner,” Olivia said flatly. “It’s exactly what I think.”

Barba shook his head. “There were extenuating circumstances,” he said, his voice low and urgent, as if trying to convince her, but Olivia wasn’t going to be convinced. How many perps had she heard say the exact same thing in the exact same way?

“How long have you been doing this job, Rafael?” she asked, her voice sharp, and she didn’t wait for him to answer. “And when have extenuating circumstances ever forgiven domestic violence?”

“It’s not an excuse,” Barba told her, and for a moment, he looked as old and tired as he sounded, his hands curling into fists against the table. “I hit him. I admit it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt him, Olivia, I—”

“Let me guess, you love him,” Olivia said, her lip curling in disgust, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She could hardly believe the words that were coming out of the mouth of the man she had until minutes ago considered one of her closest friends. “You would never hurt him. You just lost control. He just made you _so_ mad.” She leaned down, resting her own hands against the top of the table, mostly to keep them from shaking. “Did you imagine that after all my years doing this, I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth and believe them? After everything I’ve seen?”

A muscle worked in Barba’s jaw. “Well considering what you _haven’t_ seen, I thought I’d take my chances,” he snapped.

Olivia stared at him. “What are you talking about?” she asked warily.

“I’m talking about the fact that your detective has been unraveling in front of your eyes,” Barba all but snarled, reaching up with one hand to yank his tie loose. “I’m talking about the fact that he’s been teetering on the edge of a cliff and you’ve not only not noticed, but you’ve actually sought to push him off.” He undid the top two buttons of his shirt. “I’m talking about the fact that he is _so_ close to losing it altogether and you don’t even _care_.”

He broke off, breathing heavily, and Olivia shook her head slowly. “What…” she started, trailing off when Barba swallowed, hard, and turned, tugging at the collar of his shirt to reveal the dark purple bruising that ringed his neck.

Bruises that looked an awful lot like the imprint of fingers.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him, Olivia,” Barba said quietly, his voice shaking. “I was trying to stop him.”

“Rafa…”

Olivia couldn’t seem to find any other words, just staring in horror as Barba rebuttoned his shirt and tightened his tie, the bruising disappearing under the starched collar. “Has he...has this happened before?”

“Not like this,” Barba murmured, more to himself than to her. “I can normally talk him down from it, or get him to stop before—”

His voice broke, and Olivia shook her head, sitting back down across from him and hesitating before reaching out and covering one of his hands with her own. “I’m so sorry, Rafael,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice, but now that I know...Rafael, he will never hurt you again. We’ll get an order of protection filed, you can come stay with me, we—”

“Stop,” Barba ordered, his eyes wide. “Seriously, I won’t let you think — Sonny would _never_ hurt me. Not on purpose.”

Olivia stared at him. “And yet he hurt you so badly that you had to punch him to get him off of you,” she said slowly. “Rafael, there are resources that I can get you, people you can talk to, but you can’t keep letting him hurt you.”

Barba barked a laugh and pulled his hand away from Olivia’s to rake it through his hair. “Wow, you really have got the wrong end of this. Sonny didn’t—” He broke off, clearly frustrated. “His doctor says he has PTSD,” he said finally, after a long moment. “Has had it, for awhile.”

“For how long?” Olivia asked quietly, trying to understand what Barba was telling her.

“God, I don’t know,” Barba said, his voice drenched in sarcasm as he glared at Olivia. “Maybe since Tom Cole held a gun to his head immediately before his brains splattered all over Sonny’s face.”

Olivia blinked. “For that long?” she asked.

Barba’s lip curled. “The fact that you even have to ask…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Anyway, that's what started it, and I really shouldn’t have to tell you all of the things that have exacerbated it recently — the perp who fell to his death, the little girl buried in the woods after being killed by her brother, even just the fact that he’s been worked to the bone.”

“We’ve all been worked to the bone,” Olivia said, her voice tight.

“And yet you haven’t tried to strangle Noah while he sleeps,” Barba shot back.

Olivia glanced at Barba’s neck, at the marks she knew were there even if they were covered again. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

Barba sighed heavily. “He has night terrors,” he admitted quietly. “Not every night, not even most nights, but every now and then. And sometimes he...sometimes things get out of hand.”

Olivia nodded slowly, because she could see what Barba wasn’t saying, knew what it would take for him to get the marks around his neck, and she wondered how long Carisi had his hands around Barba’s neck before he finally woke up and realized what was happening.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

“Has he done this before?”

Barba shrugged and looked away. “Never like this,” he said. “Never this badly. Like I said, normally I can wake him up or talk him down, but last night…” He closed his eyes. “Last night he wouldn’t stop. He _couldn’t_ stop.”

“And so you punched him.”

Barba’s eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment, he looked so _anguished_ that Olivia’s heart almost broke. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice harsh, and Olivia reached out to grab his hand again, a little bit surprised that he let her. “I just...I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t think, and—”

His voice broke, and Olivia squeezed his hand. “You had to make sure you were safe,” she told him, and he shook his head.

“I promised Sonny I’d keep him safe,” he said softly. “And last night I couldn’t.”

Olivia took a deep breath, trying to think of some response to that, of _any_ response to that, ahead of every one of her instincts that wanted to get Barba out of that situation. “Rafa, I know that you care about Sonny, but clearly he needs more help than what you can give him.”

Barba gave her a withering look. “What he needed was time off when this first happened,” he snapped. “Time off to get the counseling he clearly needed then. But need I remind you, when the Tom Cole shooting happened, you gave Carisi, what, twenty minutes to scrub the blood off his face before telling him to get his paperwork done?”

“I told him he could take the day, and he said he was fine,” Olivia said, defensive at the unspoken accusation.

Barba’s eyes flashed. “As his lieutenant, it’s your job to know that he wasn’t in the position to make that call,” he spat. “But you’ve been so short-staffed and short-sighted that you didn’t notice then that he wasn’t ok, that you haven’t noticed him slowly falling apart ever since! I mean, God, Olivia, I know you’re fine barely holding yourself together, but not everyone is made that way. And Sonny—”

Barba broke off, something darkening in his expression. “Sonny is losing the parts of himself that are good and bright and pure. And I will be damned if I let that happen.”

“That’s what this job does to people,” Olivia told him tiredly, because she knew she didn’t have a defense to any of the accusations Barba had thrown at her.

Barba met her gaze unflinchingly. “No,” he said quietly. “Because it hasn’t done it to you. Which means there’s still hope for him.” He stood, slowly, and adjusted his tie. “But Liv, I won’t let him turn into the next Stabler or the next Amaro. He deserves more than that.”

With that, Barba headed toward the door of the interrogation room, clearly deeming the conversation over. For a moment, Olivia was tempted to just let him leave, but one thought kept coming to mind, one terrible thought that she knew she couldn’t let him leave without voicing.

“Rafael.”

Barba froze, his hand on the door.

“What if Carisi hadn’t woken up?”

Barba’s shoulders slumped. “But he did,” he said, more to himself than to Olivia.

“He needs more help than you can give him.”

Olivia kept her voice soft as she repeated her words from before, but Barba still tensed. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But at the moment, I’m all he’s got. Anytime you’d like to step in and help, Lieutenant, and get him counseling, get him time off, whatever the case may be, I’d welcome the reinforcements.” He looked over his shoulder at her and managed a small, tired smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And as for the rest...we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now, unless you have any objection, I’m taking Sonny home.”

There were many objections that Olivia had to that, but none that she voiced, just nodding stiffly and standing to watch Barba make his way across the squad room to Carisi’s desk. Amanda looked instantly at her and Olivia shook her head. She’d have to tell Amanda something, but she didn’t know yet what that would be.

In the meantime, Olivia watched Carisi flinch again as Barba reached for him, but this time, she understood, and her heart broke from it, just a little. She knew that Carisi’s fear was not for himself, was not that Barba would hurt him, but rather than he would hurt Barba.

That he would hurt Barba _again_.

She understood, because she felt that fear now, too, watching as Barba stubbornly took Carisi’s hand and laced their fingers together. She felt it as Barba reached up with his free hand to cup Carisi’s cheek, to gently run his thumb across the bruise on his cheek, and she could only imagine what words Barba was telling Carisi to reassure him, to remind him that it wasn’t his fault.

She felt something clench in her stomach as Barba led Carisi toward the elevators to take him home, and she knew that the question she had asked Barba would haunt her for many nights to come.

_What if Carisi hadn’t woken up?_

But Barba’s words had also left their mark, and so she stood, slowly, and made her way from the interrogation room. Amanda rose from her desk as if to intercept her, but Olivia again shook her head and closed her office door after her. For a moment, she just stood there, trying not to let the weight of everything that she had learned over the past half hour overwhelm her completely.

Then she made a beeline for the phone.

“This is Lt. Olivia Benson with Manhattan SVU,” she said. “I need to schedule a psych eval for one of my detectives. Yes, as soon as possible.”

After she hung up with psychological services, Olivia took a deep, shaky breath, and called 1PP. “Chief Dodds,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s Olivia Benson.” She managed a light laugh at Dodds’ response and shook her head. “Believe it or not, no, that’s not why I’m calling. I actually wanted to see what we needed to do to get some more detectives in here. SVU’s been short-staffed for far too long.”

She reached out for one of the picture frames she kept on her desk, a photo of the squad, and she picked it up, looking down at Carisi’s grinning face, his arm wrapped around Barba’s shoulders as he practically beamed at the camera.

Olivia realized she couldn’t think of the last time she’d seen Carisi smile like that.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she told Dodds, setting the picture back down again. “It’s time. And we need help.”


End file.
